Malaphors and Malaprops
by OMGitsSEDDIE
Summary: Mabel mercilessly mangles multiple meaningful metaphors. (Dipper disdainfully deconstructs her despicable diction.) Crossposted to AO3 and Tumblr.


_**A/N: I guess I had one more left in me.**_

 _ **In which Mabel is too excitable to be fastidious, and Dipper feels the need to constantly correct her.**_

* * *

Mabel rolled out of bed, hit the floor, and kept rolling, forcing her body over the piles of unwashed clothing and half-read books until she reached her twin's side of the attic.

Grin wide and unyielding, she leapt up from the ground and leaned over the prone body of her slightly younger brother and lowered her lips to his vulnerable ear.

"RISE AND SHINE, DIPPITYDOODAH! THE EARLY BIRD TAKES THE CAKE!"

"Gah!" The resulting thump as Dipper jerked in surprise off the bed had the chipper preteen squawking with laughter.

"Mabel! It's not even six a.m.! And you're mixing metaphors!"

She rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not! I'm making pancakes! Get up, lazybones," the brunette added, toeing her sibling in the ribs until he grudgingly rose to his feet.

"I want three stacks or I'll never stop glaring." He stretched and scratched his head, grabbing his cap and trudging his way to the bathroom, rubbing his eyes and yawning all the way.

Mabel smiled hopefully at her brother as he passed her. "Extra sprinkles?"

Dipper snorted, glare softening into a mildly annoyed scowl. "Yeah. Extra sprinkles." He nudged her playfully and continued his journey to the sanctuary of toothpaste and shower gel.

* * *

She'd gotten the riddle wrong. One wrong word, and the manticore had turned savage, seeking blood instead of answers.

The eldest Pines twin glanced down at the ground before immediately deciding that was a badly informed decision. The rope of her grappling hook was fraying, and she'd rather not know exactly how far she and her brother would fall before hitting rock bottom. She debated relaying this information to her younger sibling.

Glaring up at the fir in which she currently resided, she wondered how long Dipper would be able to hold on, with one sweaty, panicked palm gripping her ankle and the other flipping madly through the journal. The growling and snarling was getting closer and closer, and the Mystery Twins had less and less time to get themselves out of another jam.

"H-hey, Dip?" Mabel readjusted her grip on the grapnel, squinting into the distant woods and praying that the monster would change its mind.

"I've almost got it! We're gonna be fine!" His nervous laughter said otherwise, so she deigned to comment.

"The rope might break, the monster's gaining, and I'm pretty sure it's coniferous!"

The pages stopped turning and Dipper looked up at his frantic sister. "Mabel, _this tree_ is coniferous. The monster is _carnivorous_ , and—"

"DON'T CORRECT MY GRAMMAR WHEN WE'RE ABOUT TO _DIE_!"

"MABEL, IT'S GONNA FIND US—"

"STOP _YELLING_ AT ME; YOU ALWAYS—"

"I'M TRYING TO _HELP_ YOU; WHY CAN'T YOU—"

A ground-shaking roar shoved the arguments right back down their throats, fear gripping the twins' hearts. The bellowing beast was steadily sprinting at them on all fours, poised to leap with open jaws.

"M-mabel? I h-have a plan!" He shoved the journal into his vest pocket, nervous sweat loosening his already tenuous grasp on his sister's leg. He eyed the vicious fangs of the beast, feeling the phantom agony of their bite.

The rope was beginning to unravel, much like Mabel's nerves. "Lay it on me, bro-bro!"

"You need to let go."

" _WHAT_ —"

"Not _now_! On three."

"Dipper, I—"

" _Trust_ me!"

She huffed, readjusting her grip and rotating her aching shoulders. " _Fine_."

"One..." The beast crept closer.

"Dipper..."

"Two..." Dipper was fairly certain he was sweating out more fluid than his body contained.

" _Dipper..._ "

"Wait for it..."

The creature sprung from its haunches, gaping maw lined with wickedly sharp teeth.

" _THREE_!" Mabel let the grappling hook slide through her hands, sending herself and her only sibling straight into the path of the monster.

 _Whumph._

She cracked open one eyelid, confused by the sound.

"Dipper...?" She shifted her weight off his body. Her dazed twin blinked sluggishly back at her.

Looking down, she saw the manticore had been knocked out by the blow. Dipper had leaned in to inspect the being, hoping to take notes for the journal as his terror evolved into fascination.

Mabel yanked her brother away from the clearing, making a B-line for the Shack and its multitude of first aid kits. That was enough mystery for one day.

* * *

Dipper wiped his brow, leaning heavily against the threshold of the gift shop door.

It was another scorcher, and the tween had just spent two hours leading tours through the winding paths of the shallow part of the woods. The trees didn't grow as thickly in the safe section of the forest, and the lack of shade left him with a mighty thirst to slake.

Wendy nodded in his direction, the redhead having opted to stay indoors to man the register instead of facing the heat. Dipper nodded back and began to make his way into the house.

Mabel burst forth victoriously from the kitchen upon his arrival, clutching a pitcher full of her latest potion. Dipper refused to drink Mabel Juice Classic™, but she had high hopes that this modified version would quench his impending dehydration.

" _Diiiiiipper_!" she sang, skipping to her twin. "Come try a glass of ice cold Mabel Juice!"

"Mabel, I'd rather lick the sweat of Grunkle Stan's back than choke on another plastic dinosaur. That nurse _still_ looks at me funny whenever we go to the hospital!"

"Oh, come _on_! You're being ridiculous! Just try some! It has edible glitter..." she wheedled, nudging him with her elbow as he fanned himself with his cap.

"Ugh, _fine_. But only 'cause it's hot and I'm too dehydrated to fight you on it."

"Yay, sun stroke!" She grinned as she fished his favorite mug out of the cabinet (it may or may not have had an etching of his namesake, Ursa Minor, on the side, traced in gold on a navy background).

Dipper rolled his eyes and held out his hand, accepting his fate. As he stared down at the suspicious fluid, staring death in the face, his sister leaned into his personal space, breathing heavily as she waited for him to take that first sip.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and tossed back a shot, screwing up his face in anticipation of the horror that surely would follow.

He blinked.

"That... that actually wasn't half bad."

Mabel whooped and flung herself about the kitchen, knocking into pots and pans all the while. "I knew you'd enjoy my special decoction!"

Dipper bit back another sigh. "...I think you mean _concoction_."

"Shut up; you drank Mabel Juice so _I win_!"

The brunet just chuckled and sat down at the table. He knew when to pick his battles.


End file.
